


The Heaven You Deserve

by Dean69Castiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20, Alternate Ending, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Heaven, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28729236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dean69Castiel/pseuds/Dean69Castiel
Summary: When Dean dies, he gets sent to “the heaven he deserves” with his car, his parents, booze, and beautiful women; but something isn’t quite right. In order to figure out what that something is he must finally be honest with himself about what he really wants. The first chapter is canon, but then it becomes more transformative. The major character death warning only applies because of the first chapter.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Welcome to Heaven, ya idgit!

Dean’s breathing is shallow. He doesn’t know how much time he has left, but he knows it won’t be long. He needs to get his brother’s blessing. The pain is excruciating, but he steadies his gaze on Sam’s face, forcing himself to look him in the eyes as he makes one final request. 

“I need...” he can barely get the words out “I need you to tell me it’s okay. I need you to promise me–I need you to tell me that it’s okay.”

He feels the sting of tears in his eyes and he can tell Sam is choking down sobs too. He has that look on his face, a look Dean knows all too well. He’s trying to think of something–of anything to save his brother from this terrible fate. 

“Look at me,” Dean begs, “look at me”.

Sam shakes his head, grimacing, but then his eyes meet Dean’s again. 

“I need you to tell me it’s okay” _to die_. 

He doesn’t finish the sentence and he doesn’t need to. Dean and Sam have been here before–too many times, but this time is different. They’ve agreed there will be no more demon deals, no more revivals from Chuck. Dean is going to die for good this time, and whatever that entails, Sam is going to have to go on without him. 

Dean worries for a moment. What if this is too much for him? What if he’s leaving Sam with a burdon that’s too heavy to carry? But then he feels Sam’s hand on his own.

“Dean,” Sam says, his voice surprisingly steady, “it’s okay.” 

Dean catches a breath. 

“You can go now,” Sam finishes. 

As soon as he says it Dean feels relief washing over him. Warm tears stream down his cheeks and despite the pain he tries his best to give his brother a smile. He allows himself to sink into that feeling that’s been impossible for much of his life, that feeling that everything’s going to be okay. 

His breaths become shallower until he can no longer keep his eyes open. 

Sam leans forward and puts his forehead against Dean’s. At any other time he would have teased his brother for such an affectionate gesture, but right now he appreciates it. He savors this final moment. 

“Goodbye Sam,” he manages to whisper. 

He takes a final breath and his body goes limp against Sam’s. A familiar stillness takes hold of him; a stillness he’s only felt in the veil. Except this time there is no reaper to greet him. Instead he’s enveloped by warmth, his mind flooded with light. 

The brightness intensifies until he’s squinting and shielding his face. When he uncovers his eyes he’s blinking in new surroundings. There’s dirt on the ground, a blue sky, and sunlight peeking out from between the trees. There are mountains on the horizon that make Dean think of the camping trips they used to take when he was a kid. 

He looks down, inspecting his body. Everything looks intact, and he’s breathing normally again. There’s no more pain either, he realizes with relief. He inhales deeply and the air is clear and crisp. He takes a few steps forward, soaking it all in. 

“Well at least I made it to heaven.”

“Yep.”

Dean spins around to find Bobby. He’s sitting in an old barn chair on a porch, underneath a glowing sign that reads “Eastside on Draught”. 

He recognizes the scene; they’re outside Harvelle’s tavern, but he can’t place the last time that he’s been here with Bobbi. 

“What memory is this?” He asks. 

“It ain’t, ya idgit” Bobby replies, letting out a chuckle. Dean furrows his brow. 

“Yeah it is,” Dean says, “because last I heard you were in heaven’s lockup.”

Dean approaches the older hunter, continuing to scan his surroundings curiously. 

“I was,” Bobby says “and now I’m not.”

He smiles fondly at Dean. 

“That kid of yours, before he went–wherever, made some changes ‘round here.”

Dean’s eyebrows perk up at the mention of Jack. He hasn’t seen the kid since he became the new god and said goodbye to the Winchesters. Their relationship wasn’t perfect but he’d been missing him. 

Bobby continues “he busted my ass out, and then well, he set some things right. He tore down all the walls in here. Heaven ain’t just re-living your golden oldies anymore. It’s what it always should have been. Everyone happy, everyone together.” 

Dean can’t believe his ears. Heaven has been completely reworked since the last time he was here, and what’s even more remarkable is that Jack is responsible. 

“Ruffus lives about 5 miles that way with Oretha. I thought she’d have better taste.” He chuckles to himself, “and your mom and dad–they got a place over yonder.” 

Dean looks in the direction where Bobby is pointing but his mind is flooded with thoughts. 

Mom is here–and Dad? Dad made it to heaven? 

He thinks he’s supposed to be overjoyed with happiness, but instead he finds a lump in his throat. 

“It ain’t just heaven, Dean. It’s the heaven you deserve.” Bobby grins at him and Dean forces a smile back. 

_Of course dad’s in heaven._ He curses himself for letting his mind go there for even a moment. 

“We’ve been waiting for you.”

Bobby reaches into the cooler at their feet and pulls out a beer. He hands it to Dean and grabs another for himself. 

“So Jack did all that?” Dean asks, feeling a mix of pride and disbelief. 

“Well,” Bobby says “Cas helped.” 

He raises his eyebrows at Dean, and Dean feels a fluttering in his chest. He’s alive? He can’t stop himself from grinning. He’d been so distraught over his best friend’s sacrifice that he hadn’t gone a night without drinking and nightmares. Now to hear that he’s safe is overwhelming to say the least. 

“It’s a big new world out there. You’ll see.” Bobby says, breaking the silence between them. 

Dean takes a sip of his beer and is immediately hit with dejavu. 

“Oh wow”, he says, checking the label “this tastes like the first beer I ever shared with my dad.” 

“Quality stuff?” Bobby asks.

“No it’s crap” Dean scoffs, “but it was fantastic”. 

He’s not lying; the flavor itself brings back a happy memory of him and John sitting on a porch, not unlike this one, sharing one of those rare moments where there were no monsters to kill, no people to save. But the thought also triggers something unpleasant within him. His chest aches thinking about just how rare those happy occasions were. 

Dean shakes his head. “It’s almost perfect,” he mutters. 

“He’ll be along”, Bobby reassures, catching Dean’s eye. This makes Dean’s heart miss a beat. Does Bobby know? 

“Time up here it’s–it’s different”. 

Of course, Bobby’s talking about Sam. He realizes with a surprise that he hasn’t been thinking about his brother in the last few minutes. The news about Cas and his parents had pretty much overshadowed all of his other thoughts. 

“You’ve got everything you could ever want, or need, or dream.” 

Dean wills him to be right. This heaven was built by his best friend, the person he’s confided in about everything–well, almost everything. Even if it’s not everything Dean _wants_ in this very moment, surely it has everything he truly _needs_. 

“So I guess the question is,” Bobby continues, “what are you gonna do now, Dean?”

Dean supposes he should pop inside Harvelle’s and check out his new home or say hello to his parents, but instead he feels a tugging sensation in his chest, like he needs to get away from it all. He looks up to find the Impala is parked in the gravel driveway. Has she been there the whole time they were talking or did she just appear? 

“I think I’ll go for a drive,” he says, looking back to Bobby. 

“Have fun,” Bobby says, taking another swig of his beer. 

Dean approaches the impala, admiring the fresh paint job Cas and Jack have apparently given her. He gets inside, collapsing against the familiar leather seat. Strangely, it’s the most comforted he’s felt since he’s arrived in heaven. 

“Hey baby,” he sighs happily, putting her into drive. Dean speeds out of the dirt lot, leaving Bobby and the tavern behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

He’s been driving for what must have been half an hour at least, windows down, radio blaring. Long drives have always been one of his best remedies for when he has a lot on his mind, and his conversation with Bobby has given him a lot to process. One thought in particular keeps resurfacing. 

_Cas is alive._

He grips the steering wheel tighter, slowly bringing the car to a stop. It’s his heaven after all; who’s gonna care if he parks in the middle of the road? 

He doesn’t get out of the car but he clasps his hands together and closes his eyes. For so many years he’d thought prayer was useless, that there was no heaven, no angels. Then Cas came along and pulled him out of hell, and gradually prayers had become part of his nightly routine.

Some nights he prayed for the world not to end. Other nights he prayed just to say goodnight to Cas, asking him to come back to them in one piece. Even after watching Cas get swallowed up by the empty he couldn’t help himself from continuing to pray, just in case there was some way Cas could hear him. 

Now, sitting in his car on a deserted heaven road Dean begins to pray again. 

“Cas?”

There is no response so he raises his voice slightly.

“Cas, I know you’re out there. Bobby–he told me you built this place with Jack.” 

Suddenly he feels a wave of anger bubbling inside of him. How long has Cas been alive? How long has he been listening to Dean’s prayers and letting Dean think he’s still dead. 

“Listen to me you son of a bitch.” 

He can feel a tear welling in the corner of his eye and he swipes it away with the back of his hand. 

“Castiel” he barks. 

He rarely uses the angel’s full name and it sounds forced coming out of his own mouth. A few seconds go by and nothing happens. He opens his eyes and looks around, only to find that he’s still sitting in the impala, alone.

“Is this what you want?” He sniffs, “you want me to live in paradise with Bobby, and my parents? Without you?” 

He laughs realizing how absurd it sounds, living in paradise without his best friend. 

“Before you left you said something”, it’s painful to think back to the moment when the empty came for Cas but he needs to get this off his chest. 

“You said–you know what you said,” he can’t make himself repeat Cas’ words. He pauses again, hoping that if Cas is out there somewhere he will sense the desperation in Dean’s voice and show up. 

Nothing happens, and now Dean starts to wonder if Cas had even said those words. Maybe he just imagined it. Or maybe he’d said it but he didn’t mean it the way Dean thought he had. Cas hadn’t answered his prayers on Earth when he was apparently alive, so why would he answer him now? 

“Okay”, he caves, “I give up”. 

He wipes his face and starts the car, deciding to turn back the way he came. His heart is heavier than it was on the drive over. 

\--

The sky is getting dark by the time he arrives back at Harvelle’s and the sign outside is lit up. It’s a nice touch, having the sky still change colors like it does on Earth.

He pulls into the gravel driveway, turns off the car, and hops out. As he approaches the tavern he hears the pounding of a beat getting louder and louder; there must be a party going on. When he swings open the door he’s taken aback by what he sees. 

Harvelle’s certainly isn’t what it used to be. For starters, the inside of the bar is four times bigger than what it looks like from the outside. There are about a dozen round tables and booths, but nobody is occupying them. _Don’t Stop Believing_ , by Journey blares loudly from a nearby speaker, echoing through the empty room. 

_So much for a party._

There is no one behind the bar so he helps himself to a scotch that looks decent. He pours some into a glass, not bothering to measure out how many shots it is. He couldn’t possibly get a hangover in heaven, could he? 

He notices something sitting on a booth by the stage and he goes to see what it is. When he gets closer he realizes it’s a food plate with a cheeseburger and fries, and it smells incredibly inviting. 

_That’s more like it._

As he sits down the song changes to _Cherry Pie_ by Warrant. Suddenly he’s struck with another wave of dejavu; it’s weird how many times he’s felt that way since he’s been here. Bobby said this new heaven wasn’t built of memories, but somehow it still feels like it is. 

Suddenly the curtains at the back of the stage are swept apart and a woman wearing devil ears and matching red lingerie emerges. Dean recognizes her instantly. He isn’t having dejavu; this is a scene he’s seen play out many times before. 

When he was in his late twenties and early thirties Dean’d had dreams about beautiful women almost every night. One fantasy in particular had replayed over in his mind a number of times. In this fantasy a girl dressed up in a sexy devil outfit would perform for him on a stage that looked very much like this one. She would twirl and tease, and then her blond friend in a white halo and matching mini skirt would appear and the two dancers would put on a show for him together. He lets out a chuckle remembering how many times he’d woken up from a dream like this to find Cas watching over him; the cheeky bastard must have snuck inside his head a few times. 

The angel girl has shown up now. Dean sits up straighter, hoping for the same thrill he used to get from this part of the dream when he was a decade younger, but the rush doesn’t come. Despite her perfect body and seductive movements he can’t help but draw his attention to the cheap plastic halo and ditsy strap-on wings she’s sporting. It feels so silly to think that this was once his idea of what an angel should look like. 

When he was on Earth the dream had gone through several renovations as his understanding had grown. He remembers one version in particular where a real angel of the lord had made an appearance. He shakes his head, taking a big gulp of his scotch. It burns on the way down. 

He starts on his burger and it’s not long before he’s devoting more of his attention to his food than to the girls on stage. The patty is moist and the fries are prepared with just the right amount of salt. The portion of food he’s been served is enough to leave him feeling satisfied but not bloated. He downs the rest of his drink and stands up, the alcohol suddenly hitting him. 

Behind the bar there’s a set of swinging wooden doors that catch his attention. He walks over and pushes them open to find himself at the start of a dimly lit hallway. It’s the bunker. 

His heart aches as he walks past Sam’s room and then Jack’s. He’s taken this route a hundred times before, but it feels different knowing there’s no one behind the doors. He walks past the room they’d designated for Cas despite him rarely using it. Somehow walking past that door feels even worse than the first two. Finally he arrives at his own bedroom, taking a deep breath before turning the knob. 

What he sees when he opens the door takes him off guard. It’s not the bedroom he was expecting; in fact, it’s not his bedroom at all. It’s dark but he can still make out a crystal chandelier and a queen sized bed. He’s been here before.

“Dean?” A woman’s voice calls out and the bedsheets stir ever so slightly. 

_Lisa._

His heart races. He kicks off his shoes and lifts up the blanket to climb in next to her. She turns her body toward him instinctively, pressing her head against his chest. Dean wraps his arms around her small frame. Her hair smells like rose petals and fresh laundry; he had forgotten how much he missed that smell. He’s so taken up by the feeling of having her close that it takes him a minute to actually wrap his head around it. 

That year when he thought Sam was locked in the cage he’d spent every night just like this one, cuddled up under the covers with Lisa. They’d gotten into their own little rhythm of Dean coming to bed late and Lisa waking up early for work, and savoring the time in between. Back then it had felt like everything he could ever want: a nice neighborhood with a beautiful wife and a kid who wouldn’t have to grow up to be a hunter. 

Then Sam came back and everything changed. Once again, the world needed saving and it was up to Dean to save it. The apple pie life just wasn’t in the cards for him. But it was more than that. As much as he wanted to think of Lisa and Ben as family, he knew deep down that he’d already found his family elsewhere. 

He thinks of Castiel’s empty bedroom and the ache in his chest returns. Again, he gets that nagging feeling like he needs to get away. He waits until Lisa falls asleep and then slips out of bed, careful not to wake her. He creeps back out into the hallway and turns the corner, arriving in the bunker kitchen. 

He opens the cupboard under the sink and grins when he finds his stash of liquor. After a moment’s deliberation he decides on the aged whisky. He pours himself a glass and retreats to the dining room, taking a seat in his favorite chair. 

_This is perfect,_ he thinks. _Just like any other night on Earth._

Dean finishes the drink quickly and then pours himself another. It goes down like water. Soon his head feels heavy. He rests his elbows on the table and sets his head down. His vision blurs and then refocuses on a spot on the table. Something is wrong. 

He sits up with a start, getting a better look. In the middle of the table he sees his brother’s initials carved next to his own, and his mom’s initials underneath. But he doesn’t see Castiel or Jack’s names. 

He shakes his head. Is his mind playing tricks on him? He rubs his eyes and looks again. No, he hasn’t imagined anything. Cas and Jack’s names aren’t there. 

_This can’t be right._ He’s thoroughly confused now. Cas and Jack had carved their names into this table months ago so why aren’t the carvings here now. Why would they remove their names from the table? Did they really think Dean didn’t want to see their names there? 

He thinks back to the last fight he had with Cas, to the look on his best friend’s face when he said, “I’m dead to you”, and Dean hadn’t told him he was wrong, hadn’t stopped him from walking out the bunker door. It’s one of the biggest regrets of his life and he cringes just thinking about it. 

Cas knew he didn’t mean it though, didn’t he? When they were in purgatory Dean had apologized and told him he was forgiven, and Cas had heard his prayer. 

But then, before Cas sacrificed himself he had poured his heart out and Dean had just stood there like a deer in headlights. He’d been so paralyzed by shock and despair that he hadn’t even been able to tell Cas that he cared about him too. The poor guy probably still thought Dean was pissed at him or at the very least didn't give a shit about him. 

“Cas,” he prays softly. “I need to tell you something”. 

His speech is slurred but he keeps talking. 

“Before you left–I wanted to tell you…” his mind searches for the right words. 

“I wanted to tell you that I– that I need you”. _Need_ doesn’t seem like quite the right word but it’s all he can bring himself to say, like there’s a wall in his mind and he can’t break through it. He doesn’t know what he feels more guilty about, the way he feels or the fact that he never got the chance to tell Cas.

Amara’s words come to mind. _I can see inside your heart. Feel the love you feel. But it’s cloaked in shame._ Back then he’d thought she was talking about the powerful bond between Dean and herself, but now he thinks she might have been talking about–Cas. 

That word she used. _Love._ That was the word Cas had used to describe his feelings for Dean. He was certain now, even with the alcohol clouding his brain, that Cas had said that word. 

Why was Dean so afraid to say it back, even now, in the privacy of an empty bunker? Amara was right, his love was cloaked in shame, in disbelief, in self loathing. 

His head is spinning now. He considers going back to his room to sleep with Lisa but he gets a headache just thinking about it. Instead he fumbles across the room and settles down to sleep at one of the bunker lounge chairs. In a moment he’s nodding off.


	3. The Piglet and the Pig

Apparently you can’t dream in this new heaven, because not a second after Dean closes his eyes he’s opening them again. He’s still slouched in the chair, but he feels surprisingly refreshed and not at all how he normally feels after a night of heavy drinking. 

He sits up and stretches out his back, surprised that he doesn’t have a crick in his neck from the awkward position he was in all night. He supposes that’s just one of the perks of heaven. 

“Dean?” A woman’s voice calls from the bunker kitchen. 

_Mom._

Dean stands and walks in the direction of her voice and the alluring smell that’s now wafting from that direction. When he opens the door he’s astonished to find it’s no longer the bunker kitchen; it’s another kitchen, one that he hasn’t seen in ages–not since the last time he was in Heaven. It’s the kitchen from his childhood home. 

Mary is at the stove making breakfast. 

“Mom?”

She turns around, a big smile spreading across her face. 

“Dean!” 

She puts the spatula she’s holding down to pull him into a big hug. He squeezes her tight and closes his eyes, causing a tear to roll down his cheek. He doesn’t care. His mom had left them so abruptly he hadn’t had the chance to hold her like this before she was gone. 

“Welcome to Heaven, sweetheart” she says, turning back around to switch off the stove. When she turns back to face Dean she’s holding a plate with two grilled cheese sandwiches and apple slices. Dean’s eyes go wide; grilled cheese with apple slices was his favorite food growing up–even though growing up in Dean’s case pretty much ended when he was four years old. 

Being in this room, with its familiar warmth and inviting smells–with his mom, was something he’d often daydreamed about. He accepts the plate with gratitude and takes a seat at the dining table. Mary takes the seat next to him; she beams at Dean as he devours the first sandwich and starts on the second. 

“I missed you, Piglet” she takes a sip of her coffee. 

“I missed you too, mom.” 

The food tastes just the way he remembered it. He finishes the second sandwich and then bites into an apple slice. For a moment he is content. For a moment he starts to let it sink in that he is in heaven.

Then he hears the thump of footsteps and the kitchen door swings open with a slam. 

“Mary,” John bellows as he enters the room, startling both of them. Mary jumps to her feet and returns to the stove. 

“I thought you’d have breakfast ready by the time I got downstairs,” John shoots her an annoyed glance as he makes his way across the room. It makes Dean’s blood boil to hear his dad talk to his mom that way. He’d been so overwhelmed with joy at seeing his childhood home that he’d forgotten how they used to fight. 

“Well,” Mary says, “I got a little distracted by our surprise guest.” 

Finally John acknowledges Dean’s presence.

“Dean?” His eyes go wide. “What are you doing here?”

“Long story,” Dean says. It’s not that long of a story, really, but he doesn’t exactly want to tell his father that he was taken out by a vampire on a routine hunt. He gets up to embrace John and they share a brief hug.

John clasps Dean’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, son.”

“I have to say though, I wasn’t hoping to see you here for a while longer,” the corners of his mouth turn up and Dean can’t tell if it’s a smile or a grimace. 

Dean doesn’t know how to respond so he turns to pour himself a cup of coffee before sitting back down at the table, avoiding eye contact. 

“You know what I wanted for you, Dean. I wanted you to find yourself a family.” John takes the seat at the opposite end of the table. 

“I had a family,” Dean mumbles. 

“I know you had your brother–and that angel,” John looks repulsed when he mentions Cas, and Dean feels a nervous lump form in his throat. His father had been on a crusade against all things Supernatural since Dean was a kid, so maybe he had something against angels too. 

“Cas is my best friend,” Dean says before he can help himself, “he’s the one who saved me from hell and he’s had my back ever since.” 

John shoots him a disapproving look. Mary, probably sensing the tension, comes to John’s side, giving him a kiss on the cheek as she slides his breakfast down in front of him. 

“It’s about time,” John scoffs. Dean has really had it with John’s comments, but his mom looks at him with pleading eyes so he doesn’t say anything. How much has she been putting up with? 

When he was growing up Dean had taken a lot of crap from his father: drunk rages, beatings, abandonment; but he thought that behavior all started when they lost Mary. Now he begins to wonder if his dad had been abusing his mom before all that and just switched to using Dean as his punching bag after she died. 

His chest tightens at the thought. 

“So Dean, how are you liking heaven” Mary chimes in, changing the subject. 

“It’s uh–it’s great” Dean lies. 

“Really?” John asks through a mouthful of food. “You don’t look happy.”

Dean has to fight back a laugh. Of course he’s not happy with his dad here acting like a pig–and not just his eating habits. 

“It’s just, ya know, an adjustment I suppose,” Dean says.

“How so?” 

“Well–don’t get me wrong. Lisa… she’s a special girl. I just–I miss” he’s careful about how he words this next sentence. 

“I miss some of the relationships I made on Earth.” 

John shakes his head. 

“Nah, forget about ‘em,” he says, “you’ve got your car, a beautiful woman. What more could you want?” 

Dean’s heart drops. He should have known his dad wouldn’t understand. Who knows what he would do if he knew what Dean was leaving out. 

“I just miss Sam, and Cas, and J–”

“Don’t even say that fucker’s name” John’s voice is suddenly filled with fury, “not after what he did to your Mother.”

Dean is taken aback by John’s shift in tone. It reminds him of his own rage when he’d heard about what Jack did to Mary and it makes him feel ashamed. In some ways he was just like his father, always quick to anger. It’s the part of himself that he hates the most. 

But then he remembers Cas’ words. _You think hate and anger, that’s what drives you. That’s who you are… it’s not._

Something stirs inside of him. For the first time he realizes that the poison he’s been carrying with him, the self loathing, the shame–is not his own. It belongs to his father.

He looks up at John in disgust and a new found confidence. 

“His name is Jack, and he’s family. He’s–” Dean hesitates, “he’s like a son to me.”

Dean can see John’s face heat up a fiery red but he doesn’t care. He’s going to protect and defend Jack the way John failed to do for Dean, no matter the cost. That’s what being a family is all about. That’s what being a good father is about: accepting your kids no matter what they do. 

“Please don’t, John,” Mary whimpers. 

Suddenly John is moving toward him and Dean feels the sting as John’s hand makes contact with his cheek, knocking him out of his seat and onto the floor. Normally he would have gotten angry and clapped back but now all he can do is smile up at his father. John’s abusive tactics are just further proving to Dean what he already knew deep inside. 

The drinking, the anger, the nightmares: it was all because he’d been manipulated at a young age to think it was normal to have a dad that took off leaving him responsible for his little brother when he was just a kid. A dad who blamed him for every problem, who beat him down and diminished him for every little mistake. 

He can see it all clearly now. This dysfunctional father-son relationship between John and Dean and husband-wife relationship between John and Mary is not something Dean wants for himself. He doesn’t have to feel ashamed of who he is anymore, does not have to feel ashamed of who he loves. 

Dean gets up off the floor, swiping the back of his hand across his face to wipe away tears. He strides confidently toward the kitchen door and pushes it open to leave, but before he goes he turns back to Mary. 

“Mom,” he begs, “come with me”. 

She looks to John and then back at Dean. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I can’t leave your father.”

 _This is just typical_ , he thinks. Mary had never been able to put him or Sam as a first priority so he’s not surprised that this is her response. It still causes him pain but he doesn't let it stop him. 

He exits the kitchen and finds himself outside again, his car parked a few yards away. This time it feels different though. He doesn’t feel like he’s running away. This time he’s leaving with purpose. He doesn’t know where he’s going exactly, but every step he takes feels like a step in the right direction.


	4. A Moment of True Happiness

Dean gets in the impala and slams the door shut. He pulls out of the dirt lot and drives down the same road he took when he first arrived in heaven, except this time he doesn’t stop after half an hour. He drives through a bare landscape and then a forest where the redwood trees are so tall he can’t see the sky. 

After an hour or two he reaches a clearing. To his right emerges a crystal blue lake, glimmering in the afternoon sun. It stretches so far and wide that he can’t see the end of it. 

He slows the car so he can take it all in. A few hundred yards later he is arriving at the base of a wooden pier overlooking the lake. He’d known it was coming because he has visited this lake many times. When he was no older than twelve Bobby had first brought him and Sam here to go fishing. Eventually it became a tradition for them to come here several times a year. 

These occasions were more than just day trips; they were a much needed escape from the never-ending stress that came with the hunting lifestyle. Sitting on the dock he could look out across the still water and be completely overwhelmed by the vastness of it, until all of his problems felt small in comparison. 

As he grew older the fishing trips became less frequent, until Sam went off to college and they stopped going entirely. Sometimes Dean would still come to visit, but only in his dreams. A few times he had dreamed that Cas was there with him, the two of them sitting shoulder to shoulder, their knees bumping against each other as their legs dangled over the edge of the pier. 

Sometimes he wondered if it was more than just a dream, if Cas had really been there with him, if he had felt the same way that Dean felt when their bodies made contact. He had always been too afraid to ask, had even told the angel to keep his distance to respect Dean’s “personal space”, because he couldn’t handle the way it felt and what that might mean. 

When Cas had said “I love you” it was the first time he’d really let himself believe the feelings could be reciprocated. He should have been overjoyed, but fear overshadowed any other emotion. The words that had gone unspoken between them for years were suddenly out in the open, and it was like a safety net had been swept out from under Dean’s feet. Not to mention the direness of the situation, with death literally pounding on the dungeon door and Cas talking about sacrificing himself. 

Looking into his best friend’s tearful eyes he wanted nothing more than to show him how much he cared about him, but his feet were glued to the floor and there was a lump in his throat. When Cas pulled him close he thought for sure the angel was going to kiss him, but instead Dean was suddenly hurdled across the room. The pain he endured when his back hit the dungeon wall was dulled out by the pain in his chest when he realized that Cas was being swallowed up by the empty and there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

He had missed his opportunity to tell Cas what he needed to hear, what Dean needed to say. 

He parks the car at the road’s edge and walks down to the dock. The wooden planks creek under his feet and the wind tugs at his hair. The smell of fish hangs in the air, but it’s not unpleasant. In fact, it’s comforting to be hit by that familiar smell. 

When he gets to the end of the dock he sits down and looks out at the clear blue water, just like he would in his dreams. He clasps his hands together and takes one last look before closing his eyes tight and starting to pray.

“Cas”. 

He’s unsurprised when there is no answer. At this point he has come to expect the angel’s silence, except now he doesn’t feel angry about it. He just feels guilt. He has guilt for not doing anything when Cas confessed his feelings, and guilt from even before that. There had been so many opportunities for him to tell his best friend how he felt but he’d always held back. 

“Cas I–I’m sorry I never told you how I felt.” 

He can feel the tears already forming, and he doesn’t try to hold them back. For once in his life–or afterlife–he’s gonna be vulnerable. It’s what Cas deserves at the very least. 

“The way I feel about you, it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. When I needed saving you were always there, but it’s more than that. I wanted you–I needed you there even when we weren’t fighting monsters.” 

He has more to say but he’s not sure how to word it so he pauses to collect his thoughts before clearing his throat and continuing. 

“I was so scared to tell you how I felt. You can be a quirky little dude one moment and then an all-powerful angel the next. It’s intimidating, ya know. Not to mention you’re–well you’re a man, or at least in a male vessel. I didn’t even know I could be into that–not until I met you.”

Dean takes a deep breath before continuing. 

“But the male vessel thing–that’s not even the biggest reason why it was so hard to tell you. You were right about the way that I see myself. I _do_ feel angry and broken, have ever since I was a kid. I feel like there’s a poison inside of me and everyone who gets too close gets hurt–or worse.”

Charlie’s face pops into his head and he cringes as another wave of guilt washes over him. 

“After a while I started pushing people away because I couldn’t bear it anymore, but with you it was different. You kept coming back, kept saving me, kept caring about me–even when I didn’t deserve it. You’re my best friend, man. You’re the only best friend I’ve ever had. Can you believe that?”

Dean chuckles, but his heart is so heavy that pretty soon his laughter turns into sobs. He’s never let himself say these things out loud before and it pains him to keep going. Still, every word is a small weight off his chest. 

“I couldn’t tell you how I felt, because I was scared–scared of letting myself feel _my_ true happiness and then losing it. Good things never last long, not in my experience. I felt ashamed of myself for even wanting to get close to you, because in my mind that also meant losing you in some terrible way.”

He’s pouring his heart out, and he’s almost certain that nobody is even listening, but that won’t stop him, not this time. 

“I understand–I get it now. What you were trying to tell me about who I am. I’ve been walking around with my head down, thinking that all I am is destructive. But the truth is, that’s not me. That’s just the crap that my father dumped on me, so he could manipulate me into being his good little soldier.” 

His chest heaves. Everything he’s feeling becomes more real as he says the words out loud.  
“You looked inside and you saw me–the real me. You saw the things I was thinking and feelings, and you knew who I was even before I did. You designed this heaven for me based on my happiest dreams, but they felt more like nightmares without you in them. You knew about the strippers, and Lisa, and my childhood home. How could you know about all that and still not know–”

He sniffs.

“How could you not know–that I love you too?” 

He’s said it now. It’s all out in the open. If Cas is listening then he knows the truth. Dean thought he would feel relieved to finally get it off his chest but instead he finds he can hardly breath. It’s too late. He’s finally said it and it’s too late, he’s certain of it. 

But then he feels the faintest bit of pressure against his side.

_Cas?_

He turns his body in the direction of the source and opens his eyes. When his vision clears he finds himself staring into a pair of eyes deeper and bluer than the lake. For a moment all he can do is stare in disbelief.

“I must be dreaming,” Dean finally says. 

“You cannot dream in heaven,” Cas replies in his usual matter-of-fact way. 

“It’s really you!” Dean smiles and pulls the angel into a tight hug. Somehow Cas is back and he needs to hold him close so he can’t leave ever again. Cas’ body tenses up at the embrace and then relaxes. He wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and rests his head on the hunter’s shoulder. 

When they finally pull away Dean notices that Cas’ eyes are wet with tears.

“You heard my prayer?” He asks. 

“Every word,” Cas nods. 

“I’ve been missing you like crazy, man. I’ve been praying to you since I’ve been here.”

“I know.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. 

“You knew?” He asks, his chest aching a little. 

“I couldn’t come to you,” Cas says. 

“Couldn’t or didn’t want to?” Dean asks, his voice strained.

“No, I _couldn’t_ ,” Cas says, “because of Amara.”

“Amara? What does she have to do with anything?” Dean asks, his brain going in all different directions. 

“You know I don’t feel anything for her anymore, don’t you?” His brow furrows. 

“It’s not that,” Cas says.

“Well then what?” Dean asks, getting desperate for an explanation. 

“As I’m sure you’re aware, when Jack became the new god he absorbed Amara so that she could be spared and they could live in harmony. We sought to build a new and improved heaven, and with her form being so intimately entangled with Jack’s we had no choice but to include her in the process.” 

“So you’re telling me Amara helped to rebuild heaven?” 

When he thinks about it, it makes a lot of sense. Something hadn’t felt quite right since he’d been here; of course Amara was involved. 

“We struck a compromise. When a human arrives in heaven they shall experience all the happiness of their wildest dreams, but only once they have overcome the darkness inside of them.”

Dean gasps, it’s all coming together now. Cas continues talking. 

“I wanted to come to you–to comfort you, but I was afraid that if I messed with the delicate balance–I was afraid I might ruin your chance of ever getting the heaven you deserve” he turns away from Dean now, swiping a tear from his eye. 

“Hey, it’s okay!” Dean puts a hand on Cas’ shoulder to comfort him. Cas leans into Dean’s touch. 

“So, if you’re worried about disrupting the harmony or whatever, why are you here now?” 

“Dean!” Cas looks at him wide eyed. “Don’t you know? You did it! You broke through your inner darkness.” 

Now it’s Dean’s turn to be shocked. Everything that’s happened since he arrived has been a test of his internal strength? And he passed the test? 

“You overcame your greatest temptations when you walked away from the girls at the bar, and Lisa. You conquered your biggest fears when you stood up to your father and when you expressed your fondness for me.”

Cas’ face goes red when he says this. He looks away from Dean once more, trying to avoid eye contact. It makes Dean chuckle. He puts a hand on Cas’ cheek to steal back his gaze. Now Dean has to stop laughing and just stare because their faces are only inches apart. 

“So, this is my perfect heaven?” Dean asks. 

Cas nods slowly. He seems to be incapable of producing speech all of a sudden. 

“What about you?” Dean asks, “Is this your true happiness?” 

Cas gulps and then nods again. Somewhere inside of him Dean finds the courage to lean forward so his lips meet the angel’s. He lingers for a moment before deepening the kiss, which sends a jolt of electricity through his body. Cas’ hands find Dean’s chest and he grips tightly to the hunter’s shirt, pulling him close.


End file.
